His eyes bore into yours, he had called you into his office room for a reason he didn’t know. And neither did you. Though- the look he had told you he was pissed, or was that the alcohol? Because the room reeked of it.

“You know why I called you in here?” His voice was quiet, husky and a bit cracky from drinking. Low as he continued to stare at you.

You shook your head, having honestly no idea why.

Yet- knowing that his father died a few days ago from a shooting, you knew he was probably feeling worse for wear right now, hence the drinks.

It wasn’t as if he had a problem- when he was focused on the mafia, alcohol was the furtherest from his mind. So why did he drink now… normally this even wouldn’t get him to.

His eyes narrowed as you shook your head, almost as if he didn’t approve of that answer- or that he was pissed at himself for not knowing either. “Come here.” He commanded, leaning back in his chair and beckoning you to come around his desk and near him. He seemed to remember why he asked you here.